


Uh Oh Oh No No

by quillingyousoftly



Series: MCU Kink Bingo fills [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 50 Shades of Grey - Freeform, Awkward Boners, Car Sex, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Orgasm Control, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Hand Jobs, Sexual Frustration, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:27:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23069227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quillingyousoftly/pseuds/quillingyousoftly
Summary: He never thought it would be possible at his age, but Jack had that effect on him.
Relationships: Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow
Series: MCU Kink Bingo fills [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1626025
Comments: 8
Kudos: 25
Collections: MCU Kink Bingo Round 4





	Uh Oh Oh No No

**Author's Note:**

> For my "mood music" square for MCU Kink Bingo.
> 
> This fic focuses more on teasing than getting to a happy ending, so be warned :d
> 
>   
>  Yes, by "happy ending" I mean an orgasm.  
> 

Brock was going to kill Jack Rollins.

Said Jack Rollins was lounging on the couch between Collins and McKinnon, his eyes fixed on the screen. He looked bored and generally oblivious to both Brock's distress and revenge plans. Brock was sitting on the other end of the couch, leaning in with his elbows resting on his knees in hope it'd hide the fact that he had apparently developed a Pavlov's reaction to the soundtrack of the movie his team was currently watching for shit and giggles.

The movie was 50 Shades of Grey, and today Brock had discovered the music Jack liked to put on when he wanted to spend a romantic night was the soundtrack for it.

He adjusted himself on the couch, clearing his throat. No one paid him any attention. On the screen, Ana and Christian were making out in an elevator. Not even a sex scene—it made Brock look like he popped a boner to a couple kissing. McKinnon leaned over Jack to say something to Collins; they chuckled, and Jack looked up at them with a smirk hiding in the corner of his mouth. Undoubtedly it was a snarky comment about the movie, but what if McKinnon noticed Brock's indisposition and they were laughing at him? He was their commander, for fuck's sake, he couldn't lose their respect.

Maybe team-building activities weren't a good idea after all. No, his current situation wasn't his fault; it was Rollins', he did this to him. And Brock was going to kill him. 

The scene on the screen changed to something else; Brock was barely paying attention to what was going on, more focused on willing his erection away and making sure no one noticed. The soundtrack ceased for a moment, and soon enough his boner was gone, leaving him frustrated. Collins and Rollins burst into laughter at something McKinnon said, making Brock grit his teeth. He wished Jack was suffering too; meanwhile he seemed not to notice the soundtrack at all. He grabbed a nearby bowl of chips and set it in his lap to angrily munch on.

He was silently fuming until the first sex scene. The music turned up again, and his cock stirred beneath the chips bowl. He felt his cheeks burn; nothing special was happening on the screen, he wouldn't even call it soft porn, but the soundtrack was bringing memories of much hotter action he had been getting with Jack. A moment later he was leaning in again, the bowl discarded on the floor, his erection back in full force. Collins and McKinnon were giggling beside him, and he gritted his teeth so hard his jaw hurt.

He tried to think unsexy thoughts: failed missions, Pierce berating him, dead bodies. Slowly, it worked. Before the end credits, his cock was soft again, and he even more frustrated. When the credits began rolling, Brock turned the movie off; he couldn't risk listening to more of the soundtrack.

"That was fun," he lied, shooting Jack a look meaning he wanted to go home.

"Kinda got boring at the end there," Jack commented. 

McKinnon hummed, phone in hand. She lost interest in the movie minutes ago. Jack nodded at Brock and they both got up.

"Leaving already?" Collins asked. "There's a second part."

Brock wondered if he and Jack had ever fucked to the second movie's soundtrack, too, but even if they hadn't, he couldn't suffer through another movie.

"We're both on call tomorrow, and it's late," Brock explained, and it wasn't even a lie.

"He's an early bird, it's past his bedtime already," Jack quipped, which didn't help his situation.

Collins grinned but didn't dare laugh. "That's why you're so grumpy? Fine, I won't keep you. See ya."

They said their goodbyes, and Brock rushed out of Collins' apartment block and to his car, Jack loitering behind. He was still midway when Brock settled in behind the wheel, and he rolled his window down to bark, "Hurry up, will you?"

"Are you really that tired, old man?" Jack shot back, but at least he picked up the pace. Soon, he folded himself into the passenger seat of Brock's mini, his wincing and groaning giving Brock slight satisfaction.

"I hate your car," he said as Brock pulled away from a parking lot, a mantra he heard every time Jack had the displeasure of being in his car.

It was understandable: Jack was a big man, and the car was small. Usually, Brock found the car optimal, but with Jack so close to him, radiating heat and smelling so good, he admitted it might have been too small. He realized he was still horny from the two boners he had popped, and they were locked in a tiny, warm space for the next half an hour. A flush crept up his neck, and he cleared his throat. He glanced at Jack curiously to see if he noticed anything was amiss and met his penetrating green gaze. He swallowed thickly, his eyes escaping to the road.

"So what crawled up your ass, really?" Jack asked.

Brock clenched his jaw. It was all Jack's fault, and yet he acted like a brat about it. Brock shot him a glare, but seeing Jack's confused face, he realized he really hadn't figured out what the problem was. He rolled his eyes, grabbed Jack's hand, and put it on his cock that was swelling for the third time that night. He never thought it would be possible at his age, but Jack had that effect on him.

"What the fuck?" Jack murmured, palming Brock's erection. Brock sucked in a breath and told himself to focus on the road. "There was nothing in that movie that could get you going like this."

"There was," Brock growled. "The soundtrack."

And finally, Jack got it; his forehead smoothed out, and his lips broke in a smirk. He started rubbing Brock's cock with barely any pressure, but it still made Brock feel too hot in his hoodie. 

"So you finally figured it out, huh?" Jack mused. "That's a good source of that music, isn't it?"

"It's pretty shitty," Brock said. "The music, too. I don't know what you see in it."

"Little Brock seems to disagree."

"He's not that little," Brock grumbled. "And he's a fucking Pavlov's dog with that music, got excited because he thought it meant sex."

Jack's low chuckle made his cock strain against the thick fabric of his jeans. Jack's hand rubbed him a little more firmly, drawing a small moan from his throat.

"Do you mean to tell me you've been sitting there, hard in your pants, right next to our colleagues?" Jack asked, voice dark and dangerous like smoke. Brock breathed in sharply, debating cracking open a window, but then he slowed down as he approached the red light, noting the cars all around them. He couldn't risk anyone overhear what was going on inside. "I remember you folding in on yourself, is that why? Did you make your panties wet?"

The fly opening sounded loud between them, and Brock held his breath as Jack fingered the damp fabric of his boxers. Was it precome or just sweat, he couldn't quite tell, but Jack seemed satisfied either way. Another chuckle made his cock jump right beneath Jack's fingertips. Jack's big hand closed around it, and Brock bit his lower lip, staring at the lights, willing them to turn green. He needed to get home right this second, but they were still twenty-five minutes away.

"The music mighta just meant sex," Jack purred, but then his voice turned serious, "Okay, real talk: can you drive like this?"

Brock opened his mouth, but instead of replying, he let out a shaky breath. Like this: with Jack's hand on his cock, caressing him, rubbing, stroking.

"Yes. Maybe? I don't know, I guess, just don't make me come."

It was hard to say those words, because Brock would happily come right this moment as they waited for the lights to change, but he didn't want to win a Darwin's Award for dying so stupidly, and surely neither did Jack. With the alternative being Jack taking his hand away, his choice was between one torture or another.

"Yes, sir." The purr was back in Jack's voice; a pleased rumble that made Brock's spine tingle. 

Jack pulled the damp fabric down his cock, exposing the head. Besides that, Brock was fully clothed, but in the car, with no way to cover up the windows, he felt naked. He tried to keep his eyes open and on the lights as Jack pressed his thumb against the tip, gathering the precome that had pooled there, and rubbed it down his shaft, pulling it entirely out of his boxers. The lights finally changed, and Brock stepped on the gas pedal maybe a little too hard; the engine complained loudly, and he could feel Jack staring at him.

"I got it," he hissed, trying to relax his legs and grip on the wheel. "Don't stop."

Jack hesitated for a second, then he moved his hand up, his grasp tightening just a bit, but enough to draw another small moan from Brock. He bit his lip again, scanning his surroundings and making sure he didn't hit a pedestrian or bump into the car before him. He was so focused on what was happening outside the car, that for a moment he actually forgot what Jack was doing, but then he leaned down and under Brock's arm to take his cock in his mouth.

"Fuck, Jack," Brock breathed, his hand going to the back of Jack's head, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to pull him away or keep him there. His lust was battling with reason, and Brock figured he should let his reason win if he wanted to survive this, but then Jack choked around him. Brock threw his head back with his mouth open and closed his eyes, but only for a second. When he opened them, he was still in control of the car and not about to crash into anything, but it was too close; he couldn't let it happen again.

"Jack, I swear to god, I'm gonna crash."

His cock throbbed when Jack pulled away, leaving it bright red and glistening with saliva.

"Chill, I'm just getting you more wet." Jack wiped his mouth on the back of his hand casually, like nothing happened.

His hand returned to Brock's cock, pumping it languidly, moving his slick skin with it. Brock bit his lip. Jack's hand was a downgrade from his mouth, so it was easier to focus, but it was still on the forefront of his mind. He stared at the road with his cheeks red like their lives depended on it—because they did. Jack on the other hand was watching the view change behind his window, acting like he wasn't at all trying to blow Brock's mind with how his calloused fingers were handling him.

They spent the next five minutes in tense silence, not counting Brock's sharp breaths, when a sound coming from Jack's phone interrupted it, and Brock almost braked. Instead, he slowed down as they approached another red light.

"Turn that off," he barked, not looking at Jack. "I don't ever wanna hear this music again."

Jack sighed, but turned off the soundtrack and pocketed his phone. "Alright. I'll choose some new music for us."

"No," Brock said sharply. "No more music. No more situations like this."

"I can stop," Jack offered.

"Don't you dare."

Brock stared him down in case he got any funny ideas, but Jack's hand never hesitated. Jack nodded at the lights that had just turned green, and Brock went back to driving. It was getting gradually harder to focus with the sound of Jack's hand pumping his cock, the smell of sex, and how hot and sweaty Brock was in his hoodie, and if that wasn't enough, the windows started fogging up. Brock cursed under his breath and turned on the a/c instead of cracking open the window. The cool air blowing in his face and slowly clearing the windows made the situation a little more bearable. He breathed deeply as Jack's hand dived in his boxers to fondle his balls and lowered himself down a bit to give him a better access. He was getting close, but thankfully they were nearing their home; he couldn't wait to safely park at their apartment block and have Jack stop teasing him with those gentle, languid movements and finish him off.


End file.
